


Not All Wrong

by vausemanaddict



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 21:29:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21125528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vausemanaddict/pseuds/vausemanaddict
Summary: Lindsey feels like she does everything wrong. Emily makes her feel like she might be wrong about that, too.Begins following Portland's semifinal loss to Chicago.





	Not All Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to apologize in advance, as writing has never been my strong suit, but a promise is a promise, folks!

The sound of the final whistle echoes through Lindsey’s head, sealing their fate for the season, and everything around her seems dulled. She feels as if she’s walking through quicksand as she slowly paces across the field, pulling up her jersey to wipe her face. 

She glances backwards and sees Emily throwing an arm around AD, undoubtedly reassuring her that the single goal wasn’t her fault. 

She looks away and squeezes her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry. She knows it’s a losing battle as she feels a fat tear slide down her cheek. 

She quickly wipes it away, not wanting the fans or her friends to see her like this, heartbroken over a semifinal. She makes her way towards a young girl in the stands who is waving so frantically at her that she may fall over. As she gets closer, she sees the girl is holding a sign asking for the Great Horan’s cleats, and even through her disappointment, she chuckles. 

She bends down and begins to unlace her cleats when she suddenly feels a hand on her shoulder. Startled, she turns her head to see an uncharacteristically quiet Emily standing beside her. She doesn’t open her mouth to speak, she just looks at her. Really looks as her as if she can see that Lindsey is feeling the full weight of this loss. As if she knows she’ll be at the field as soon as they land in Portland, heading balls into the net until she’s breathless.

Lindsey tears her gaze away from Emily’s, feeling more tears welling up in her eyes, and Emily walks away, somehow looking more disappointed than before. She finishes unlacing her cleats and puts on a smile when the girl hands her a marker to sign them with. 

She poses for a few photos and signs some jerseys before she heads into the tunnel. She goes through her normal postgame routine on autopilot, not speaking to anyone and barely remembering how she even got back to the hotel.

It figures that Emily is already in the room when she gets there, sitting on her bed staring blankly at her phone. As Lindsey walks in, she puts her phone down and hits her with that same probing look from the game. 

Lindsey opens her mouth to speak, but doesn’t know what to say. She knows Emily is probably blaming herself for not getting to Kerr fast enough, and she wants to make her feel better. She wants to tell her that the pass wouldn’t have even gotten to Kerr if she’d been able to cut it off in the midfield, like she was supposed to.

Instead, Lindsey just flops down onto her own bed and presses her nose into the pillow, trying to even her breathing as the tears begin to leak out of her eyes again. She replays the game in her mind, picking apart everything she could’ve done differently. 

If she’d jumped just a millisecond earlier she could’ve headed in the equalizer. If she’d passed the ball just a second later to Hayley it wouldn’t have been offside. She runs through these scenarios so many times she thinks she’s dreaming when she feels Emily’s hand on her shoulder again. She only realizes she’s not when Emily speaks, so quietly that she still isn’t sure if it’s real.

“Linds, it’s not your fault,” Emily says.

Lindsey turns her head and sees Emily sitting on the edge of her bed, looking down at her with concern in her eyes.

“You don’t have to lie to me, Sonny,” Lindsey mumbles.

Emily’s eyebrows crinkle together.

“It’s not like we’ll be playing together next season anyway, you may as well tell me the truth,” she spits, and Emily pulls her hand away like she’s been burned.

It’s not something they’ve talked about, really. They’ve tiptoed around it, but between the playoffs and Lindsey’s recent injury, the expansion didn’t seem so important.

Emily worries her bottom lip between her teeth and wraps her arms around herself, pulling the long sleeves over her hands. 

She looks so small like this, and Lindsey instantly regrets bringing up next season. All she wants to do is pull Emily into her arms and tell her that everything will be okay, that she never wants to leave her.

“I’m sorry, Em. I didn’t mean it. We don’t know what’s going to happen,” Lindsey whispers, sitting up and curling in on herself.

She sees the glimmer of tears in Emily’s eyes for a second, and then she’s looking away, staring out the hotel window at the city below them.

“No, you’re right. We should get used to the idea,” Emily replies shakily, and for the second time today, Lindsey feels like she’s failed. 

For some reason, letting Emily down feels ten times worse than letting the team down, and suddenly she’s at a loss for words again.

Emily turns back to her, letting her own tears fall freely now, and Lindsey’s heart breaks all over again.

“You shouldn’t worry, Linds. You’ll be in Portland next season,” Emily says, using one of her sleeves to wipe at her tears, “You won’t have to leave home.”

Lindsey wants to tell her that home isn’t Portland, it’s the blonde sitting next to her on the way to Providence Park, belting the lyrics to Hot Girl Bummer at the top of her lungs. It’s that same girl sitting across from her at their favorite café, stealing bites of her avocado toast when she thinks Lindsey’s not looking, even after she’s already finished her own.

Words aren’t her strong suit though, so instead she scoots closer to Emily and wraps an arm around her. She feels Emily melt into her and savors the warmth. She doesn’t say anything, just sits there and holds her as they both gaze out the window into the Chicago dusk.

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, almost 1000 words of me spiraling over my favorite idiots!  
I'll probably update soon, but I'm not exactly sure how to wrap this up so please bear with me for now.


End file.
